


Precious

by lavvyan



Series: Dearest [2]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-27
Updated: 2009-12-27
Packaged: 2017-10-05 07:33:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/39268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lavvyan/pseuds/lavvyan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Sil shrugged and tapped on the readout screen. "This is a tagged government ship. The broadcast is clear, the designation is on the list. It's the </i>Aurora<i>."</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Precious

_ By 10091 A.E., many of the Liberated, those men and women who once were no more than pets, kept for their genes, have found a new home in Atlantis. It is the one remaining Lantean city in Pegasus, a place for trade and diplomacy. It is also the bridge to an entire galaxy, one in which those with the Ancestors' blood are cherished, not owned. Pegasus has become a dream, and a lot of the Liberated work hard to earn themselves a ticket on one of the commuting space ships, a ticket to a new home. _

No one cares where you're from in Atlantis.

~~~

John Sheppard leaned back in his chair and studied the man sitting across from him at the other side of the desk. The guy was about the same age as he himself, maybe a little older, dark-haired and blue-eyed and completely unremarkable. Kind of attractive, but not his type. John had no idea why Teyla had insisted he meet this one himself.

The McKay corporation had been hiring as many Liberated as it could and still make profit - and that was a lot - but most of them saved their wages to make their way to Atlantis, so the turnover rate was pretty high. That meant a lot of applicants to deal with, and John was perfectly happy to leave the dealing to someone else, except Teyla had strongly suggested he conduct this one interview in person. There was no getting out of it when Teyla strongly suggested something.

"So," he asked, idly wondering if it was possible for a prospective employer to screw up an interview, "what's your name?"

"04-877-55-7G," the man replied, and for one absurd moment, John thought, _no, it's supposed to be 57._ Then the implications of the man's answer sank in.

"Wow," John said faintly, "didn't see that coming."

"I'm sorry?" John's brother said.

"And you don't know either, do you?" No, he'd bet half the corporation this guy - his _brother_ \- had no idea. If Teyla hadn't told John, she certainly wouldn't have told a stranger.

"Know what?" John's brother asked. His expression had changed from politeness to curiosity to bewilderment, and John recognised himself in that frown.

"You need a real name," he said suddenly. "Have you thought about that?"

"Not very much."

"Then how about," John thought for a moment, "Dave?"

"Dave is fine," John's brother said, still wearing that bewildered frown. This interview probably wasn't going at all like he'd expected. "But won't I need a last name, too?"

John threw an arm over the back of his chair and grinned wildly. He had a brother!

"Nah," he said, "you can share mine."

~~~

"You could have warned me."

Teyla's smile was calm as the sunlit sea, if one didn't notice the mischievous glint in her eyes. "I know how you enjoy surprises, John."

"I enjoy them best when they're happening to someone else," John muttered, but before he and Teyla could get into their next round of polite bickering, Ronon got them back to business.

"The _Fractal_ needs parts," he said. "The _Tegan_ and the _Black Hole_ do too. And Oheeran said Atlantis could do with some new air scrubbers and a ZPM."

"Did she say how much she was willing to trade?" John asked with interest. He liked Oheeran. It had been her idea to offer the Liberated a new life on Atlantis, and even if the space had been limited, she'd always done her best to find other worlds who would gladly take in people with the Ancient gene.

"I believe the offer was Levels three to six of Tower Eighteen as additional living space for the Liberated," Teyla said.

John raised his eyebrows. ZPMs weren't exactly mass-manufactured, but six levels were a generous offer. A little too generous.

"Did you tell her I won't let her buy McKay stocks for less than market value?" The only business-related favours he granted were as co-owner of DES Trading. The running of Rodney's company was another thing John gladly left to someone else, for a variety of reasons he didn't like to examine too closely.

Teyla grinned. "It is not you she wants in her debt." She threw a sly glance at Ronon. "Nor does she have her eye on the stock market."

"Ronon, you dog," John teased, and Ronon blushed. Specialist Ronon Dex actually blushed, and not even his threats of violence could stop their laughter.

~~~

Ronon and John took the _Fractal_ back to Earth. It was their usual MO: Teyla stayed behind to handle business back in Pegasus, Ronon had his connections on Earth. John could have thrown in his weight - as the owner of McKay Corp., he had influence over people he had never even met - but while he did have a head for numbers, he didn't like negotiating, so the others mostly kept him out of it. He was a lot happier when he could tinker with the engines, anyway.

The _Fractal_ was one of his favourites. Unlike the ships of Lantean design, she had been built for neither speed nor manoeuvrability, but cargo space. She was a fine ship, though, and could hold her own in a fight. The plan was to have her overhauled in one of the McKay shipyards and then load her belly with spare parts, including Oheeran's air scrubbers and a ZPM or two.

John was drawing up plans to improve coolant efficiency when the proximity alarms started to blare. Moments later, the whole ship shuddered, sending both John and his data tablet to the floor as something metal screeched and the inertial dampeners fought to compensate for the strain. Then there was a dull bang and the low hum of the engines fell silent.

John got to his knees and reached for his radio with a shaking hand as he stood up.

"Bridge, this is Sheppard. What the fuck just happened?"

"We nearly crashed into another ship, is what just happened," Sil Meriweather, the pilot on duty, replied. Her voice was pitched a little higher than usual. _Adrenaline,_ John thought. "We did skim their exhaust trail and went ass over teacups, but I managed to get us stabilised enough to fall back into normal space. Engines didn't take it too well, though."

"We nearly _crashed_? That's..." Impossible, or very nearly so. The odds against a chance encounter in hyperspace were so high even John couldn't calculate them, and flight computers did the rest. In thousands of years of space travel, John didn't know of a single incident where two ships had collided while in hyperspace.

"I know." She paused. "For what it's worth, I think they were drifting."

John let out a disbelieving breath. A wreck? Out here? Although, if it had been drifting in hyperspace, who knew where it might have hailed from, and how long ago. This thing could be ages old.

"Okay, that's it," John said, his heart already beating faster. "I'm coming up there."

He was going to figure out a way to get to that ship. He couldn't wait to see what might be inside.

~~~

_The _Fractal_, a trade ship from Atlantis, discovers a wreck drifting in hyperspace in late 10091 A.E. Despite the risks, the crew decide to tow it back into normal space, perhaps looking for a sizeable profit. The manoeuvre takes four days. _

The crew of the Fractal_ make no profit at all, but end up saving the lives of seventeen people, which is perhaps its own reward. What's more, their efforts finally shed a light on the fate of the lost Othala expedition._

~~~

"It's the _Aurora_."

John stared at Sil, but it was Ronon who said what was on his mind.

"You're kidding."

Sil shrugged and tapped on the readout screen. "This is a tagged government ship. The broadcast is clear, the designation is on the list. It's the _Aurora_."

They all looked out the large viewport at the front of the bridge, at the ship that was silently drifting not far from them through normal space. Matching its speed and towing it out of hyperspace had been a harrowing manoeuvre that had left John with sweaty palms and a racing heartbeat and the certainty that this had taken at least five years off his life.

"Holy shit," John said at last. His voice was faint, and he swallowed.

The _Aurora_. She and the _Orion_ had been the two ships Earth had sent to help the Asgard. Both had gone missing, what, two years ago? The Asgard had never called on them again, and Earth's government hadn't been about to risk another ship to go all the way to Othala.

Rodney McKay had been on one of those ships.

"Yeah," Ronon agreed. He threw John an odd look. "We gonna go over there?"

"Are you kidding?" Sil waved her hand excitedly at the viewport. "Do you know how many stasis pods that thing has? There could be survivors! We'd be heroes! Never mind that bringing news from the Othala expedition has _got_ to get us in the news!"

"You're right. We can't leave that ship behind." John looked at Ronon as he said it and got a nod in return.

There was no way they would leave without looking.

~~~

The _Aurora_ was dark and silent. There were scorch marks on the sides of her halls, and strange silvery blocks littering the floor. John picked one up and studied it in the beam of his flashlight.

"What is it?" Sil called. She was wearing the same ugly red suit they all were, and had given up trying to close her fingers around one of the tiny pieces with a frustrated huff.

"No idea. Looks like a small building block." John shrugged, and let the piece drop back to the floor. They could figure this one out later. "Ronon?"

"Pods are through here." Ronon jerked his head at one of the dark doorways. They followed him.

John's heart skipped a beat or two at the sight of the room. Most of the stasis pods were dark, their lids cracked or outright broken. More of the silvery blocks lay scattered on the floor, and among them, bodies.

"Ancestors," Sil breathed, and John half-turned to her.

"Go check the engine room. See if she can make it back to Earth under her own steam. And try to get life support back on line."

Sil nodded, nearly stumbling as she backed out of the room. John knelt beside one of the bodies, a thin man wearing his hair in a ponytail. The front of his blue uniform shirt was dark with dried blood. Something had stabbed him in the gut and killed him. John thanked all the deities he didn't believe in that vacuum had pretty much stopped all decay.

"Sheppard."

John got up and walked towards where Ronon was standing, several feet away and half behind a corner. There were more bodies, but some of the pods were lit, and John could see the shapes of people inside.

He let out a slow breath.

"I know that guy." Ronon nodded towards one of the pods. "Dr. Radek Zelenka. He was working with McKay."

"Any sign of Rodney?" John had to force himself to ask.

"No."

Their suits gave a little beep and John looked at the readout. The _Aurora_ now had a breathable atmosphere.

"Well done, Sil," he muttered, then nodded at Ronon. "Let's get him out of there."

They opened Zelenka's pod and pulled him out. He blinked awake as soon as his feet slipped from the pod's bench and hit the floor.

"Wha-?"

John took off his helmet and gave Zelenka a small smile. "Hey, Doc. Don't worry, we're-"

Zelenka dug his fingers into John's sleeve and yanked him close. Startled, John went.

"Whatever you do," Zelenka said urgently, his eyes wild, "do not enter the engine room!"

"Uh, bosses?" Sil's voice came over the intercom. "I think we have a problem here."

~~~

"What the fuck _are_ those things?!"

John had to yell his question over the sound of Ronon's blaster. Fat load of good it did them; the metal bug... _things_ just kept coming. They were the size of a small dog and looked like a four-legged spider. John shuddered.

"The Asgard call them Replicators," Zelenka yelled back. "They are immune against energy weapons!"

"I can see that!" John cursed as one of the things came too close. He kicked at it. To his surprise, it slammed into the far wall and shook itself before it advanced again.

Ronon snarled, jammed his blaster back into its holster, and pulled out the Genii gun he kept tucked behind his belt. The closest Replicator exploded in a cloud of silver blocks.

"Not immune against projectile weapons," Ronon said grimly. More Replicators scattered across the floor, torn into pieces. "Get these people out of here."

John herded the few shell-shocked survivors together and took the small handgun Ronon had pulled out from... somewhere. They began to make their way back to where they'd docked the two ships together, and John just hoped that none of these things had gotten the idea to go see what the _Fractal_ might look like.

"Sil," he shouted into his mic, "what's your status?"

"The _Fractal_'s engines are fired up and ready to go! No breach yet, but you better get here fucking fast, or we'll all be bug food!"

"Get the guys to dig out every Genii-type gun they can find. Those critters don't like bullets."

"Right." John could hear her give the order, and then he had to concentrate on firing again.

_Janus fuck, Rodney,_ he thought as he narrowly avoided one of the things jumping straight at his head, _what have you gotten yourself into?_

And then someone screamed, and he had no more time to think.

~~~

_The _Aurora_ ends up destroyed by the _Fractal_'s weapons. An investigation is launched, but the few surviving expedition members confirm that this was the only way to destroy the Replicators before they could repair the _Aurora_'s engines and find their way to Earth._

Earth's government is disinclined to send a rescue mission to Othala to locate the still-missing Orion_. The Replicators, they argue, have apparently not yet been made aware of Earth's locations, or they would have taken over an Asgard ship to get there. The varying parties do not want to change the status quo._

Surprisingly, the Fractal_ volunteers to go instead. If anything, its captain argues, that would lead the Replicators back to Atlantis, not Earth. Not that he expects to lose against them, now that their weakness is known._

It is early 10092 A.E. by the time the ship has been overhauled and is ready to go.

~~~

Othala turned out to be pretty much a dead world. The _Fractal_'s sensors picked up a few clusters of life signs here and there, all of them far away from the one giant city that covered a good part of the planet's one continent, but other than that, there was nothing but empty forests and lifeless streets.

"Looks like the bugs just took over," Sil said, zooming in on the city and grimacing at the four-legged metal spiders that stalked along the streets and up the buildings. "You sure you want to go down there?"

"Four clusters," John reminded her. "Some of those life signs might be our people."

"They started it," Ronon added, and patted the butt of his gun. John raised an eyebrow at him, and Ronon shrugged. "What?"

John turned to Sil. "We'll beam down in teams of three." That was what he'd gotten the _Fractal_ her new transporters for, after all. "You keep the channel open, pull us out if there's any sign of trouble."

"Why not beam the life signs up and be done with it?" Sil asked.

"Because we don't know what they are and the zoom doesn't tell us squat under those trees," John said. "Besides, Ronon here's gonna be all grumpy if he doesn't get to shoot something."

Sil laughed. "Wouldn't want that," she said.

John smiled at her, but his heart wasn't in it. He couldn't stop thinking about how one of those life signs might be Rodney. What he might do if it was. What he might do if it _wasn't._

He'd spent nearly eight years convinced that he hated the guy. Two more regretting that they both hadn't trusted each other enough to clear up the hurt between them. He'd dealt with Rodney's death by ignoring it as much as he could, and now Rodney might not be dead at all. John didn't know what to do with that. He just knew that once, Rodney had been the focus of his whole being, and things like that didn't just go away.

No matter how hard he had tried.

"So," he said lightly, knowing that Ronon was seeing right through him. "Are we doing this, or what?"

~~~

Three hours later, he was back on the ship, pissed off, bleeding, and accompanied by a bunch of tiny naked aliens that gave him the creeps.

"How are things going?" he asked Sil once he'd left the Asgard in the infirmary and made his way to the bridge.

"Ronon just called in for transport. I beamed him into the hangar, since the infirmary is getting a little crowded."

"Yeah, I saw." John scrubbed a hand over his face. He hadn't seen anyone but Asgard and his own people down there. _Fuck._ "Any casualties?"

"Two of the Asgard didn't make it." Sil sighed. "Markham's got his leg broken by a bug. Griffin's got a punctured lung, but he'll be fine. Ronon said his team was fine."

As if he'd known they were talking about him, Ronon sauntered onto the bridge. He was dirty, his pants were torn in four different places, and he was grinning like a loon.

"Look what I found," he said and gave the man he'd been dragging behind him a push that sent him stumbling onto the bridge.

John held his breath. The hair was shorter and had begun to recede from his temple; the frame was sturdier, more solid, even though the man was thin. But the eyes, the slanted mouth...

"Hey, Rodney," he rasped, and Rodney's eyes went wide.

"John." He looked like he was going to faint, and they both stared at each other, the silence between them deepening until it seemed like a chasm that couldn't possibly be crossed.

"I, uh." Rodney cleared his throat and pointed vaguely over his shoulder. "Infirmary. To see. You know."

He fled. John was left standing with his fists clenched at his sides, Sil's curious gaze, and Ronon's half-amused, half-pitying, "What kind of a reunion was that?"

~~~

_Working together with the Asgard, the _Fractal_ targets a naquadah deposit and destroys Othala, and with it the Replicators. The few remaining Asgard join their brethren in a remote part of the Pegasus Galaxy. Of the 178 members of the Othala expedition, only 21 survive. Most of them return to Earth immediately._

~~~

John ran a hand through his hair as he rang Rodney's door chime.

They were seven hours out from Earth. If he was going to do this, he had to do it now.

The door slid open. Rodney's eyes went wide again as he saw John standing on his doorstep, but he stepped away without a word. John took a deep breath, and went in.

"So," he said, wincing inside at how lame that was.

"So," Rodney echoed. They both fidgeted.

"I gave Sweetvale Research to Carson Beckett," John blurted, silently cursing himself as he felt his ears heat up.

"Okay." Rodney wouldn't look at him. John took a step towards him.

"He told me what you did."

Rodney swallowed audibly. His voice was hoarse as he said, "It was a fucked-up system anyway."

John took another step closer. "But you wouldn't have done anything if not for me."

Rodney didn't say anything, but John knew, he _knew_ that this was true. If not for John, Rodney never would have done anything at all to change things.

"You did it for me," he insisted, and Rodney shrugged, pulling at some invisible lint on his shirt.

"Yes."

"Why?" He thought he'd had it figured out. Beckett had told him, as had Teyla, once, but he needed to hear it from Rodney.

Rodney, who gave a tired sigh. "Look do we have to do this?" He sounded wearier than John had ever heard him. "Can't you just go torture someone else?"

"Rodney."

"Because I fell in love with you!" Rodney exploded, and John was so startled he took a step back. "You, with your ridiculous hair and your stupid laugh and your stupid, _stupid_ eyes that wouldn't stay the same colour from one moment to the next, and you were always _there,_ smiling that stupid smile, and it was all _fake_ because you were _brainwashed,_ and what was I supposed to do?" Rodney took a jerky breath that ended on what sounded almost, not quite, like a sob. "I didn't know what to do."

"Rodney." John felt a small smile tug at his lips as he stepped closer again and reached out. Rodney flinched back.

"Don't."

But John had had years of missing Rodney even though he should have known better. Years of figuring out that it hadn't been just the chip, not near the end, and he wasn't stupid enough to let this slip through his fingers.

Not this time.

"Precious," he whispered, and Rodney closed his eyes as John's fingers touched the side of his face. It felt so different from what he remembered. He'd have to learn him all over again.

"I missed you so much," Rodney said quietly, still sounding so tired, and John had to lean in and kiss that weariness away.

Rodney's lips under his felt nothing like he remembered. They felt like coming home.

~~~

"So I gave him back his company, obviously." John cleared his throat. "He's just taking care of some things, then he's coming back here."

Teyla smiled at him. "I believe there are still several vacant quarters in Tower Eighteen," she said, her smile widening at the expression on John's face. "Although perhaps he will not need quarters of his own?"

"We should give him a week off once McKay gets back," Ronon said as he dropped into the chair next to her. His tray clattered on the table. "And get him a bigger bed."

"There's nothing wrong with my bed," John protested, "and besides, we're not going to..." He could feel his cheeks flush. "I mean, we are... eventually. But for now, we're just..."

"Dating?" Teyla asked, taking pity on him. "Getting to know each other again?"

"Yes," John said, relieved he wouldn't have to spell it out, especially in the mess hall at lunchtime.

"Sounds like he's gone mellow," Ronon told Teyla.

"I believe such a thing is common in men from a certain age," she returned, both nodding sagely at this bit of insight.

"So how are things going with Oheeran?" John asked in a desperate attempt at subterfuge.

"She is very taken with your brother," Teyla said earnestly. "Ronon does not like him at all."

Ronon muttered something under his breath and stabbed his fork into the glob of meat on his tray. And demonstrating some of the Sheppard knack for bad timing, this was the moment Dave entered the mess. Accompanied by Oheeran.

"You know what," John said as Ronon's expression darkened even further, "let's spend the afternoon on the mainland. We haven't done that in a while. And we could take a picnic," he added.

"That is a wonderful idea, John," Teyla replied with just a little too much enthusiasm, and he rolled his eyes at her. She grimaced right back.

"Whatever," Ronon said, and despite himself, John grinned.

"I have the best friends," he said, and laughed at their startled faces.

He was a very lucky guy.

~~~

_In the night of Liberation Day in the year 10092 A.E., one of the Liberated stands under Atlantis's brightly lit sky, looking up at the stars above him. He isn't holding the hand of the man beside him, but their arms are touching shoulder to elbow as they lean on the railing, and he is happy._

"Precious," he whispers, and gives the man beside him a look and a shoulder bump and a smile.

And a kiss.


End file.
